


Mickeys Dick Smasher

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 09:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17403995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Zeke wants to try something new in bed.





	Mickeys Dick Smasher

**Author's Note:**

> this is the closest i'll ever actually get to writing m/m smut, too bad!
> 
> also if you don't understand the title, [here](https://imgur.com/gallery/CWZNX)

In a dimly lit inn room that only smells faintly of mothballs and other old things, Zeke puts on a striptease.

Well, it could be called a striptease, or it could be called _Zeke very slowly removes his many belts one by one because he thinks that’s hot, or something_. Mikhail would probably call it the latter. He’s already sprawled out on the bed, arms folded behind his head and heels impatiently bouncing against the uncomfortable mattress. He yawns. Zeke doesn’t seem to care.

“I’m falling asleep here, c’mon!” Mikhail groans, rolling his head back in an exaggerated gesture of boredom.

Zeke, meanwhile, does this weird… swaying motion with his entire body, as he struggles to remove the third-to-last belt from his waist. And he still has those other belts on his wrists. Oh, Architect. One man doesn’t need _that_ many belts. If he has more hidden beneath his pants, Mikhail swears to himself that he’s just going to get dressed and go sleep in the other room with Rex and Tora and Dromarch and Azurda.

“You haven’t seen the best of it yet!”

“You said that five minutes ago.”

“Getting parched already, eh? Can’t say I blame you.” Zeke grins, continues doing that very un-sexy swaying, rolling his hips out back and forth. He reminds Mikhail of a tree being blown around in a heavy storm. “Hold onto that anticipation! Let it _feed_ your carnal hunger! I promise, my good man, that the wait will be absolutely worth it!”

Mikhail rolls his eyes. “I could put on a much better show than you.”

Zeke finally flings aside his last belt and sets to undoing the ones around his left wrist. “Hah! We’ll settle that claim another night. But, for now, all you need to do is sit back and watch.”

Of course he’s been sitting back and watching. He’s been sitting back and watching for the past ten minutes. But it looks like it won’t be much longer now, and Mikhail is actually beginning to allow himself to relax and let his annoyances slip away.

He wriggles out of his pants, shoves his briefs down around his ankles, and kicks the last of his clothes to the side. There, Zeke proudly stands completely in the nude (except for the… eyepatch…), hands on his hips and a big, goofy grin on his face.

Mikhail snorts in laughter. “You done? Then get over here.”

Immediately, he regrets his words when Zeke takes a step back and bounds forward to _leap_ into the air, suspended at that peak for what seems like an eternity in slow motion, and comes plummeting down towards his unfortunate victim.

“ _Skyrending Bodyslam, Seismic Impact!_ ”

Luckily, Mikhail has the reflexes to quickly roll to the side. Zeke crashes down onto the bed on his belly. The frame creaks ever so dangerously, but miraculously holds strong despite the powerful collision.

When the bed stops shaking and he looks over, Zeke is already lounging on his side propped up on one elbow, _sparkling._

“So? What’d you think of _that?_ ”

“Ehh… two out of ten. I’ve seen baby Gogols with more grace than you.”

“Hmph. That’s fair, I suppose. Cressidus is the one who gave me the idea for that move.”

Zeke is still sparkling, though, and then he succeeds in completely ruining that strangely attractive aura when he squints, makes a kissy face, and reaches for Mikhail.

“Whoa, whoa! Back off!”

“What!”

“You’re not gonna get me up with a face like _that_ , you dumbass! Go back to the other face you were making!”

“You’re being too picky! Shut up and let me kiss your mug!”

“It’s a complete turn-off!”

“Aww, what’s this, picky Mikky’s getting shy all of the sudden? How completely unlike you.”

“Call me that _one more time_.”

But he lets Zeke pull him close nonetheless. That familiar spark of ether passes between their Core Crystals, and Mikhail is once again reminded why he’s even attracted to this oaf in the first place. Slowly, he melts into the touches, large hands even more callused than his own moving down his back, and he thinks this might just be totally okay.

If only Zeke would take off that stupid eyepatch, though.

Zeke mouths at his neck before pulling back, his grin more sharp now. He half sits, half lounges beside Mikhail, and trails fingers down his chest and abdomen.

“Hey, Mik.”

“Yeah?”

“Lemme try something.”

“Cressidus didn’t teach it to you, right?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.”

Maybe it’s that confident, smoldering look in his eye that knocks Mikhail completely off his guard, because he readily nods. He groans as Zeke gently wraps his fingers around his cock and strokes it just once, his touch uncharacteristically as light as a feather.

“Heh… alright. Keep going, Zeke.”

Zeke smiles and leans down to kiss his jaw. He straightens up, still holding his cock. Zeke’s grip tightens ever so slightly.

Then, he shouts.

“ _Ultimate Jackhammer Oscillation: Magnitude 10!!_ ”

“What the fu—  _ARRGHHHHHHHHH—_ ”

 

* * *

 

Mòrag and Akhos are the first ones up for breakfast in the morning, as usual. They sit together at a table in Rumbletum Canteen with their food (plain toast and coffee for Mòrag, rice and tea for Akhos) and begin their typical daily routine of Akhos rambling on about some idea for a play he had while Mòrag sips at her coffee and pretends to listen.

The next ones to emerge are Zeke and Mikhail, unusually enough. They both pay no attention to the bump on Zeke's head that he tenderly prods, but Akhos raises a brow at the way Mikhail awkwardly limps with his legs bent wide.

It reminds him of… a Krabble.

“Well, what’s this about? Did you two have an accident in the middle of the night?” Akhos smirks behind his tea.

Mòrag stares off into space and continues to sip at her coffee.

“I’m not talking about it,” Mikhail grimaces. He turns to Mòrag, simpering. “Hey, hey… I could use some comfort from _you_ , though. C’mon, Mòrag, won’t you show a little sympathy to a man in pain?”

Mòrag takes a bite of her toast and chews very, very slowly.

“Mik’s got a delicate dick!” Zeke blurts out. He earns a swift punch to his gut, but it doesn’t deter him. “I nearly jerked it right off!”

“You asshole—!”

Akhos sneers. “Ah, that would explain the excruciating scream of pain that the entirety of Goldmouth was treated to last night. And here I thought someone was being eviscerated.”

“I could’ve been, Akhos! I could've been!”

“Lemme keep practicing, Mik! I’ll crank it down! Magnitude 2, for starters! How about that!”

“Forget it!”

And Mikhail awkwardly waddles away towards the closest food stall with that uncomfortable limp while Zeke trails after him, still trying to bargain. Akhos leans back in his seat and watches them, shaking his head with a derisive smirk. “Those two certainly are an inspiration for comedy. That’s the only reason I see why they’re useful to keep around, quite frankly. Don't you agree, Mòrag?”

Mòrag, still slowly chewing her toast, says nothing.


End file.
